The Bitterest Lost Battle
by Blue Ace of Spades
Summary: Spike and Vicious fight a mind blowing battle. You have NEVER SEEN something as earth-shattering as this daring duel between the ex-brothers in arms.Humor. Contains traces of SXJ, for those who are allergic.


A/N: Hey all! This is my first ever Bebop fic! YAAAAY!!! Don't let the title fool you, if you're looking for a good cry, you have the wrong ficcie.....Unless this one turns out so crappily that ANYONE who reads it breaks down and sobs in the crappiness of it all. But hey, I don't know if it'll be THAT bad. This is the story of a battle we never ever saw between Spike and Vicious, a battle that changed both their lives forever..... So, give a first time Bebop Fic-er a chance and review this bad boy. RRThanks! By the way I don't own Bebop.-Blue Ace  
  
The Bitterest Lost Battle  
  
Spike Spiegel walked down the streets of Tharsis City with purpose. This was his chance. This was his one chance to bring doom upon the man who had taken his life and twisted it into what it was today. The man who had had a hand in separating him and his one true love, the man who had brought so much sorrow into his existence.  
Vicious is sooo going down. Spike muttered to himself.  
The lanky man wandered the streets until he hit the part of town where all the dance clubs were located. He passed a man who looked absolutely whacked out of his skull and was wearing a plaid kilt and a shirt that said with a demonic looking grinning mouse screened onto it. The weirdo shoved into Spike as he walked by.  
The man belched.  
Shove off. Spike muttered coldly.  
Duuuude. You've seriously gotta. Gotta......gotta....what? The man inquired, twisting his head to look at the sky.  
I said, SHOVE OFF you wacko! I'm a bit busy right now! I'm trying to find out if I'm really alive here, ya think you could give me some peace?!!! Spike shouted at the man. The man just took his two fingers and flashed Spike the peace sign.  
Dude! That's a new one! Like, are we alive? Or are we just....not living? He contemplated, scratching his chin. Spike ran a hand through his green fro and sighed.  
Sometimes I feel like I'm watching-  
A dream ya can't wake up from?... The man finished for him. Spike looked at him in amazement. Then the anger set in.  
You STOLE my catch phrase damn it! How dare you!!! Spike shouted again. The man just looked blank.  
Dude, no, I just think we buy from the same guy. That's all. What are you doing these days? He asked Spike.  
The hell? I'M NOT A DRUGGIE FOR GODSAKES!!! I'M JUST CONTEMPLATIVE AND MELANCHOLY!!! Spike roared. The man stepped back from him, his greasy hair looking wind blown from Spike's verbal storm. Then the man walked away, leaving Spike to go about his business.  
His unfinished business.  
A few blocks later, Spike arrived at a dance club called Lolita's. He stood in front of the club, waiting to face his destiny.  
I have to do this, He uttered. If not for me, then.... For her, for Julia. I'll do it for Julia!! He yelled, and with that, Spike threw off his brown trench-coat, revealing a skintight white sequined 70's disco jumpsuit. He pulled a pair of sunglasses from a nonexistent pocket and slid them on.  
Let's get this party started. Spike said, striking a Saturday Night Fever-Esque pose.  
Hot damn! Said a familiar man's voice from the corner. Spike spun around and saw a man in a white fir coat with long wavy blond hair smoking a Virginia Slim.  
JULIUS?!! What the hell are you doing here? He asked, shocked to his badass core.  
I come to this corner every October honey, Julius simpered. I just want to wish you good luck! Julius blew Spike a kiss from his heavily painted red lips. Spike pretended he didn't see this, lest he start hemorrhaging from the disturbingness of it all.  
Er... Whatever Julius. Spike muttered. And with that, he strode into Lolita's to seek his destiny. Julius took a drag on his slim and said, There goes the one man in the System Sol who can pull off white sequins. Julius saluted to Spike's fading profile.  
  
Spike shoved his way through the crowded club, all the way to the dance floor. When he got there, he saw Vicious standing on a platform above the floor near the D.J. Vicious sported a blood red sequined jumpsuit, quite similar to Spike's. They saw each other, and suddenly the whole club went quiet, except for the DJ's music, which was playing some techno tune.  
Spike shouted, his voice like ice.  
Vicious shouted, his voice like liquid nitrogen.  
So typical of you to wear the color of carnage on a battle night. Spike remarked.  
This outfit used to be white you know...._But the blood of my victims hath stained it so!!!_ Vicious shouted.  
OH SNAP! Some random fool in the crowd yelled. The rest of the crowd collectively went You know, like what a class does when one of the members is called down to see the Dean. Anyway, Spike took one critical look at Vicious' ensemble, and raised and eyebrow.  
Oh, gimmee a break Vicious, we ALL know you just dyed that old rag with yo mama's Lo'riel! The crowd did the Whoa thing again, Vicious jumped down onto the dance floor's center, and Spike walked there as well.  
You're going down Spiegel. Vicious whispered.  
Oh, I can get down all right, the question is, can YOU? Spike spat.  
We shall see. Vicious snapped his fingers at the DJ. I want you to kick it Old School Style! He barked at him.  
How Old School bro? The DJ asked.  
Let's take a loong trip, back to the beginning of the millennium! Spike requested.  
Suit yourself. The DJ muttered. And with that, the dulcet tones of Missy Misdemeanor Eliot filled the club.  
_ Is it worth it ?  
Let me work it.  
Put the thang down  
Flip it and reverse it!_  
First one to drop unconscious WINS! Spike shouted.  
Fine with me! Vicious replied.  
Ladies first! Spike gestured to Vicious, urging him to begin the Dance-Off.  
I'LL KILL YOU PUNK!!! Vicious screamed. He proceeded to stand on his head and spin around in time to the music for a good amount of time, then he back-flipped fifteen times and landed in front of Spike with a crazy grin on his face.  
Think you can beat that, Snot-Head?! He yelped. But Spike was already on it. He moon-walked in time to the music, then he go ton the ground and did the coffee-grinder like nobody had ever seen it before. His legs _disappeared_. That's right, Spiegel was moving those limbs so fast that they practically traveled to another demension. He was jst that good. After his legs reappeared, Spike moon-walked back to Vicious on his hands and flipped back upright, his face red with glee.  
OH, SNAP! YOU JUST GOT WAITED-ON!!! Spike yelled at Vicious' raging face.  
Spiegel, I believe it's You just got _Served_. The DJ corrected Spike. Spike turned to the DJ.  
Bro, how am I supposed to remember a crackpot phrase like that? Spike replied.  
The DJ said, and went about his business.  
Let's take audience challenges. Vicious suggested.  
Whatever, scardy cat. Spike spat back.  
Hey AUDIENCE!!! The DJ shouted.  
The engaged audience replied.  
These guys want some requests for their duel!!! DJ shouted.  
Do the Meteor! One guy shouted. Spike and Vicious both curled themselves into balls, and somehow shot around the room in mid-air. The audience went crazy.  
Do the Double Stick Tape!!! A girl yelled. The two dancers back-flipped up onto the celling and strutted around in time to the music. Spike moon-walked again while Vicious performed Rocketts style kicks. The two glared at each other, and they both started back flipping like mad on the celling. The crowd went _mental_. Spike and Vicious descended, and both performed complex, nature-defying disco moves on the floor. Spike somehow contorted himself into the shape of the Swordfish II and jerkily moved backwards and forwards in time to the music. Vicious got out his katana and began tossing it up in the air and catching it while back flipping some more.  
Geeze, Vicious, got back flips? Spike taunted.  
Shut the hell up Spike, you could practically win a damn _Darwin Award_ you're in such a stupid position! Vicious shot back.  
Aw, most people dig this position. That's what yo mama said last night anyway. Spike replied casually. Vicious tried to throttle him, but alas, he could not find Spike's neck.  
It was a close race, a close race indeed, and one guy from the audience would make the request that would decide the victor of this intense, bitter battle.  
DO THE VORTEX OF FUNK!!!!! The guy shouted. The crowd gasped. For the Vortex of Funk was a full body version of what has happened to Spike's legs earlier, the dancer had to spin so fast that they were not visible, making it seem like they had been sucked up by a vortex. Many a foolish dancer who tried this move had perished, so of corse it was perfect for this Dance-Off Death-Match.  
I'm defiantly no Whirling Dervish, but I _think_ I can kick you're ass Vicious, old pal. Spike stated, lighting a cigarette that he got from nowhere.  
Let's do it then! Vicious hissed.  
You're on Vicie, may the best man win. And so they spun. And they spun, and they spun like nothing you have ever seen before in your life. They were just two ghosts of blurs, one white, and one red. Soon, they both were gone. The audience went dead silent. Spike and Vicious were gone.  
OH MY GOD, THEY'RE GONE! The guy who requested the Vortex shouted.  
It's all your fault, you tool! Another guy shouted at him. The mob began to yell and close in on the poor guy, but just in the nick of time, Vicious dropped unconscious out of nowhere, onto the floor. The crowd was silent again. Where was Spike? They soon saw him whirl into view, still conscious, but just barely. Spike looked down at Vicious's motionless body and smiled.  
He shouted as he too dropped unconscious onto the floor.  
Uh, Oh, The DJ shouted, removing his cap and jacket to reveal a head of spikey red hair, and an outfit consisting of black leggings and a short white T-Shirt. Edward thinks Spike-Spike and Vicious-Person took their Happy Dance tooooo faaar!!! They look dead-dead, but they are only sleeeping....aaaahhh!!!.... And with that, DJ Edward fell asleep on top of her table as well. The battle was over, and the victor was unconscious, the loser was unconscious, and the DJ was asleep. What was really gained from this bitter war? What was gained?  
Mmmmmm, Edward says you got seeerved.... Ed muttered in her sleep. Okay, I'll accept that as a moral. The moral of this story is that you got served. You _really_ got served.  
_See You Space Dance Freaks.....  
  
A/N:_ Okay! That was my first Bebop fic! I'd really like some feedback on this one, so please Review, and thank you for reading! -Blue Ace


End file.
